by Marcia James
“Did Salvi, Hobart or Joey admit they’d kidnapped you?”
Dalton looked disgusted. “No. They wouldn’t speak at all ’til the lawyer arrived. Then they claimed they were innocent.”
Dom nodded, her chin rubbing his dark chest hair. “Hobart and Joey are probably less afraid of jail than of Salvi.”
“They all deny even knowing I was in the trunk, much less putting me there,” Dalton said, “which is a joke since Hobart’s prints are all over the strapping tape.”
“Did Salvi or his lackeys say anything about your partner?”
Dalton clenched his unbandaged hand. “No, they clammed up. Salvi swore he was in New York the weekend Jason was killed.”
“Easy enough to check, I guess,” Domino mused. “If he was out of town, he was probably meeting with the Cabazones.”
“So the DEA is following up a connection between the crime family and the Xecutive Branch. We heard some rumors.” Dalton looked pleased to have his suspicions verified.
“Nice to know the DEA’s work is so covert.”
Dalton grinned at her sarcastic tone. “Well, my captain and your boss are setting up a joint investigation of the club—despite the fact the DEA originally instructed Tori Preston not to cooperate with the police.”
She fought a smile. “Heard about that, did you?”
He gave her a look that probably scared seasoned criminals. “Don’t you think getting the whole story from Jason’s dominatrix would have helped our case?”
“Half the D.C. government bigwigs belong to the club, including a couple in your captain’s chain of command,” Dom stated. “We weren’t sure who Tori could trust.”
Before he could answer, Dalton’s stomach rumbled long and loud, making her chuckle. “Hungry?”
“Starved. I could eat that scrawny excuse for a drug dog in your living room,” he joked.
“If you promise to stop dissing my partner, I’ll feed you,” Dom shot back as she scooted to the edge of the bed.
Trying not to feel self-conscious about her nudity, Domino walked to the closet and slipped on a worn, gray sweat suit. Turning, she watched as Dalton disposed of the condom in her trash can, pulled up his pants and stepped into his boat shoes. His body made her pulse stutter, despite the scars he’d collected during his years in law enforcement.
“How about pizza delivery, my treat?” Dalton suggested as he slipped his wallet into his back pocket.
“I have deli sandwich makings in my fridge,” she counteroffered. “It’d be quick and I’ve got this great spicy mustard.”
“Spicy is good,” he said.
For a moment their eyes fused and the temperature in the room soared. Looking away, Domino swung open the bedroom door. Smokey sat, disgruntled, on the floor outside her room.
“C’mon, you furry busybody,” Dom coaxed. “I’ve got a piece of ham with your name on it.”
With a sniff, Smokey got up and trailed behind her to the kitchen, ignoring Dalton, who followed. After tossing the dog a slice of honey-glazed ham, Dom set the mixings for the ultimate Dagwood sandwich on her claw-footed oak table. In companionable silence, they worked to build several impressive sandwiches that oozed condiments along with the requisite meat and cheese.
Piling their dinner, several beers and a bag of chips onto two trays, they carried the feast into Dom’s living room. Smokey wandered after them, hoping for another treat. Setting the trays on her coffee table, they sat next to each other on her brushed corduroy sofa. Dalton opened their beers and tossed the dog a couple of potato chips.
Domino grinned. So the big, bad cop liked animals. It didn’t surprise her. There was an innate kindness under Dalton’s gruffness. She offered Smokey another slice of ham, which he gobbled up. Then she gave her canine partner the hand signal that sent the pooch to his doggie bed in the corner. Smokey curled up, yawned wide and shut his eyes.
Smiling, Domino picked up her dripping sandwich using both hands. Dalton followed suit and they ate for a while without talking. The quiet was comfortable not awkward.
When he took a long swallow of his beer, Dom watched the play of his Adam’s apple and the corded strength of his neck. She flushed and decided to blame it on the spicy mustard.
“So, how did you end up in the DEA?” Dalton asked.
Domino took a moment to choose her words. “I didn’t have a lot of close friends when I was in school,” she began, “but there was one girl who really seemed to understand, you know, my teenage angst.” Dom shrugged. “Her name was Elly and she got hooked on crack in high school thanks to a jerk she was dating.”
Dom set down the second half of her sandwich, feeling the rush of pain that always accompanied thoughts of her friend. “I tried to help her, tried to tell her what he was doing to her, but Elly…she thought I was jealous because she had a boyfriend and I didn’t. The weekend Elly turned sixteen, she rolled her car down an embankment. She was high as a kite and ended up killing herself and the jerk who’d given her the drugs.”
Dalton covered her hand with his warm, comforting palm.
“Losing Elly to drugs helped me set my sights on the DEA,” she explained. “But given my family’s sense of justice and the fact that a number of my cousins and uncles are cops, I probably would’ve ended up in law enforcement anyway.”
Domino turned over her hand and intertwined her fingers with his. “How about you? Why Metro PD?”
“Family too,” he answered. “Pop, Grandpop and Great-Grandpop were cops. If you were born a male Cutter, that’s what you did. We live and breathe to be cops.”
“Must have been tough on the female Cutters,” she remarked.
Dalton’s eyes hooded. “I wouldn’t know. When the going got tough, the women in my family cut their losses and run.” She began to ask what he meant but Dalton interrupted her. “I enjoy being a cop…at least I did until Jason was killed.”
Domino squeezed his hand, hoping he would keep talking.
“He was more than a partner—he was my best friend.” Dalton looked down at their joined hands. “We must have saved each other’s lives ten times. But when I heard I was up for the sex club assignment, I talked him into drawing straws for it.” Dalton stopped, cleared his throat and finished his confession. “He ended up on the case and now he’s dead.” He met her eyes. She could see the terrible pain he was carrying. “Jason’s dead and it’s my fault.”
“No,” Dom insisted, but he pressed his finger to her lips. She wanted to tell him he wasn’t to blame but he wasn’t ready to hear the words. And she remembered how he’d told her the Xecutive Branch was his bust. Dalton wouldn’t give up until Jason’s murderers were punished.
“You’ve got mustard right here.” He leaned forward to replace his finger with his tongue.
She didn’t want to drop the subject but his distraction was working. The feel of his tongue gliding over her lips was so erotic she trembled.
That was all the encouragement Dalton required. With smooth, fast moves, he stripped off her sweats and his pants. Lying back on the couch, he pulled her onto him and pressed his hard need against her stomach. Domino moaned, amazed she could be starving for him so soon after their explosive lovemaking. If anything, she wanted him more, and the thought shook her.
Dalton cupped her face, his eyes fierce. Pulling her mouth down to his, he swept his tongue inside, the flavor of the spicy mustard layered over his own hot taste. His hands stroked down her body, inflaming and teasing until she was desperate for him.
Breaking the kiss, he reached for his wallet in the back pocket of his discarded pants and withdrew a foil packet. Domino had only a moment to wonder how many condoms he carried with him before he was shifting her to the side and sheathing himself.
“Bedroom?” Dom’s voice was a throaty whisper.
“Here.” Dalton grunted, grasping her waist and lifting her over his erection. “Now.”
He lowered her and she watched fascinated as the swollen length of his cock disappeared in
side her. The heated pressure was intense and she held still in an effort to adjust to his size. Dalton shuddered and she met his gaze. His struggle for control thrilled her. Domino arched her back and began to move.
The sultry slide of their bodies drew her to the edge, tempted her to press harder, ride faster. But the sensations were too exquisite to rush. Dalton’s hands reached up to clasp her breasts, his fingers brushing her sensitive flesh. Dom gasped and covered his hands with her own. He took her wrists and rubbed her palms over her nipples, urging her to pleasure herself. With a moan, she massaged her breasts.
Dalton dropped his hands to her thighs, his breathing ragged as he watched her. His self-control shattered and he forced her thighs into a faster rhythm. He dictated speed and depth, thrusting into her until Dom hit her flashpoint. Throwing up her arms and shouting her climax, she flew.
With a roar, he followed her. And when she fell forward in languorous bliss, he caught her and hugged her to his chest.
For long moments she cuddled boneless against him, listening to his heart beat and hovering on the edge of sleep. His breathing evened out but the gentle stroking of his fingers up and down her back let her know he was awake. Domino smiled. Despite choosing a female-dominant sex position, Dalton had needed to be in charge again. Bully. She straightened to see his face and tugged his chest hair.
“Ouch.” Dalton rubbed the pulled hair. “What’s that for?”
“Even when I’m on top, you have to set the pace.”
“Honey, you set the pace for the last month as Mistress Bella,” he teased. “Now it’s my turn.”
Blushing, Domino ducked her head back to his chest and kept quiet even when he chuckled at her embarrassment. It mortified her to think of the things she’d said and done to Dalton. Her face burned hotter than the candles she’d dripped on him earlier that evening. Not only had she topped a cop but she’d played her Mistress Bella games with a man who was now her lover.
Lying in his arms, Dom thought of what he’d said about Jason, how he blamed himself for his murder. Before he’d distracted her, she’d glimpsed his well of deep pain. Was this guilt the reason he’d never used the safe word during their sessions? He thinks he deserves to be punished, she realized, with a rush of compassion and sadness.
And regardless of the danger to her heart, Domino wanted to be the one to take his pain away.
* * * * *
“C’mon baby, make it hurt so good…”
Dom sat up in bed and slammed her hand down on the snooze button. Of all the music to blare out of her alarm clock this morning, it had to be John Mellencamp’s masochism-tinged song. The last thing she wanted after the incredible night they’d shared was to remind Dalton of their sex club sessions.
Turning the dial to an easy-listening station, she snuggled against Dalton’s side. Well, at least he appeared to have slept through the suggestive rock song. She was drifting on the edge of sleep when the alarm went off again.
“The first cut is the deepest…”
Domino twisted to smack the snooze button again, cutting off Sheryl Crow’s ballad. What the hell was it with these songs? She’d kill the alarm altogether but she needed to get up soon to check-in with her boss. Switching the station to a classic rock favorite, she rolled back to Dalton and laid her head on his shoulder. He was so warm, like a big bear, she’d thrown off the blanket hours before. Cuddling under flannel sheets, Dom wished they could spend the day in bed together.
“Beat it! Beat it!…”
With a frustrated cry, Domino shot out of bed and pulled the alarm clock’s plug out of the wall. Michael Jackson’s voice died mid Beat It. She stood, glaring down at the dead appliance. Sure, it’d been a juvenile reaction, but at least she hadn’t flung the clock across the room.
Dalton opened one eye and regarded her. “What do you have that thing tuned to? The all-S-and-M, all-the-time station?”
Domino gasped, aware she was standing in her birthday suit in the weak February sunshine. Grabbing the flannel top sheet, she pulled it off the bed and wrapped it around herself like a toga. Dalton opened the other eye, chuckled and sat up in bed. Helpless to resist, her eyes traveled south down the splendid naked landscape of his body. His obvious interest in a repeat of the previous night’s many performances stood at attention, impressive and so tempting.
Before either of them could move, his cell phone rang. Dalton stood up, cursing, and rummaged through the pile of his clothes on her chaise lounge. Grabbing his coat, he pulled the phone from a pocket.
“Cutter.” Dalton’s voice was brisk and no-nonsense.
Domino marveled at how quickly he’d changed from her sexy lover to an on-the-job cop. Locating her gray sweat suit, she donned it and headed to the bedroom door. She’d make them coffee and give him a little privacy.
“No, dammit.”
Dalton’s angry voice had her turning back in concern. As she watched, he let loose a string of expletives that burned her ears. What had happened? She took a step toward him.
“I can’t fucking believe this, Captain,” Dalton spit out. “Are you sure they weren’t paid off?”
Domino could hear the caller’s heated tone but not his words as Dalton held the phone away from his ear.
“All right,” Dalton said, and she watched him rein in his fury. He put the phone back to his ear. “I’ll be there soon.” Running his free hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture, he listened and then nodded. “I won’t do anything stupid, Captain, but I’m not letting this guy get off.”
He hit the End button and dropped the phone onto the clothes pile. Meeting her eyes, he seemed to realize she was there for the first time since he’d answered the call.
“Bad news?” she asked, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.
“You could say that.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Captain Bennett called to tell me Salvi was released this morning, something about an illegal search.”
Righteous indignation shot through Domino. “Are you saying that bastard is getting off on a technicality?”
“Looks that way.” Dalton began to dress, his movements jerky as he pulled on his jeans. “When the captain tried to tell me the details, I saw red.”
“Do you know the arresting officers? Are they on the take?”
Dalton buttoned his shirt and shoved the tails into his pants as he considered her question. “Peterson and Kovey? I’ve never seen any evidence they’re dirty but you can bet your ass I’ll get to the truth.”
The steely determination in Dalton’s eyes almost made her sorry for the cops. Almost. But she too wanted Salvi in jail and more than that, she wanted Dalton to have his revenge.
Domino put her hand on his arm. “What can I do to help?”
Chapter Eighteen
Dalton glanced at her hand. Her touch was warm and there was firm resolve in her voice. Meeting Dom’s gaze, he was shaken by the compassion and more he saw in her eyes. When was the last time a woman had cared enough to stand by him when things got rough?
He wanted to thank her for her support but his throat was tight. So he went with instinct, drawing Domino into his arms for a kiss he hoped conveyed all his feelings. When his hormones clamored for more, Dalton reluctantly set her away from him.
“Thanks,” he said, his tone gruff. “There are a couple of things you can do.”
“Just name them.” Dom sat on the bed and waited.
Dalton hesitated, surprised to find he didn’t want to wreck the special memories in this room with the things they had to discuss. But time was short and she needed to be prepared.
“You’ll be hearing from Salvi anytime now,” he warned.
Domino nodded. “He’ll be anxious to discover what I plan to tell the cops about last night.”
“Yeah,” Dalton agreed. “Salvi’s smart enough to figure out we’ll be picking you up for questioning. And if you verify my story, Metro PD can build a stronger case against him.”
“He’ll pressure me no
t to testify about your abduction,” Dom said. “And of course I can’t corroborate your story since I need to protect my cover at the club.”
Dalton understood but he wasn’t happy about the situation. And she certainly wouldn’t welcome a suggestion from him to turn over her case to another DEA agent. Domino was a highly trained undercover veteran, but he wished like hell he could put her in a safe house until Salvi was behind bars.
Frustrated, Dalton paced her bedroom then returned to stand in front of her. “You realize even if you promise Salvi you won’t support my story, he might decide to get rid of you?”
Her lips curved with pleasure at his concern. “I promise to watch my back. Since the cops confiscated my blade, I’ll carry my gun with me instead.”
“Government issue?” he asked.
“No, my personal gun,” she reassured him. “My official weapon would blow my cover if anyone searched me.”
“Good.” Dalton wanted her out of harm’s way but she had her own job to do. There was one thing however he could do to help protect her. “You know the club masseuse named Suzi—slim, attractive, with a smart mouth?”
Something like jealousy played across Dom’s face. Feeling foolish for relishing her caring enough to give a damn, Dalton wondered if he’d misread her expression when her eyes turned cool.
“I’ve met Suzi,” she answered in a flat tone.
Dalton could practically see the wall she was throwing up between them. “She’s a Metro PD detective.” He watched Dom’s surprised reaction. “She’ll be part of this combined police-DEA effort and an ally for you on the inside.”
Domino ducked her head for a moment then shot him a sheepish look. “Suzi’s a cop?”
“Yep, a good cop and a good friend,” he said. “If you can find a safe place to meet, Suzi will be able to keep you posted on our side of the investigation.”
Dom rose from the bed and stepped into his personal space. Her spicy scent tripped memories of the hours they’d spent burning up her sheets and he grew hard with wanting her.